FOOTE AND THE DUCHESS

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1847, 31 July 1907, Page 31

FOOTE AND THE DUCHESS

There was a time when comedians, off the stage, were occasionally wits and men of literary skill. Such an one was the celebrated Samuel Foote. Memory of the Duchess of Kingston is beet f preserved in the Letters of the gossip Walpole. Between Foote and the Duchess there wae an episode worth recalling. In Foote's comedy “A Trip to Calais, there was a character named Cady Kitty Crocodile, intended (or not intended) to stand for the Duchess. The play was hardly written before paragraphs appeared in some of the newspapers stating that it had been prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain. On Augus 3rd, 1775, accordingly, Foote wrote to one editor — “To the PRINTER .-The prophetic effusions- of the collectors or makers of : paragraphs have for once proved true, Mr - Printer; the ‘Trip to' Calais' has been rejected by the EOrd Chamberlain. To guess from whence’-these gentlemen obtained their intelligence (as their advices preceded by- ‘inah’y days the de- ’ livery of the Piece Lb the Chamberlain) would be a very difficult task; however, you find what was only prophecy is now become history. Till I have an opportunity of laying before the Public those Scenes which produced his Lordship's • interdiction, you will print the following letter sent to Lord Hertford, in the hopeis of softening his censure. S.F." The letter to Hertford need not be cited at length. Here is the section that contains the gist of it:

“Lord Mountstuart Has, I presume, told your Lordship that he read with me those scenes to which your Lordship objected, that he found them collected from general nature, and applicable to none but thoae who. through consciousness, were compelled to selfapplication: to such minds, my Lord, 'The Whole Duty of Man, next to the Sacred Writings, is the -severest satire that ever was Wrote; and to the same mark, if Comedy directs not her aim, .her arrows are shot, in the air; for by what touches no man. uo man will be mended. • Lord Mountstuart desired that I would suffer him to take the play with him, and let him leave it with the Duchess of Kingston: he had my consent, .ray Lord, a vid at the ©ame time an assurance that i was willing, to make any alteration that her Grace would suggest. Her Grace saw the play, and, in consequence, I saw ho*- Grace; with the result of that interview I shall not, aF this time trouble your Lordship. It may perhaps be necessary to observe, that her Grace could not discern, which your Lord-ilavi, 1 dare say, will readily believe, a- single trait in the character of Lady Kitty Crocodile that resembled - herself." But there was a, very significant footnote:— “Mr Foote intends soon to - publish the scenes in hie ‘Trip to Calais,’ objected to by the Lord Chamberlain, as a justification of hie own conduct, with a prefatory dedication to the Duchess of Kingston.” Next, on the 15th August, there was published the following hatch of comment and correspondence: “Mr Foote, interdicted by the Chamberlain from representing the libellous piece called a 'Trip to Calais,' threatened to publish the scenes, and dedicate them to her Grace of Kingston. It was in vain that the malignity as well as injustice of such a procedure were represented to Mr Foote in the strongest colours. The mimic would not yield one tiitle to the remonstrance of humanity, though he appeared attentive to the call of interest; in obedience to which call, he acquainted a friend of the Duchess of Kingston's that /he would consent to suppress the publication of the scenes, if her Grace would give him Two Thousand Pounds for the copy.' It may be easily supposed that eo impudent a demand shared the fate of refusal. Baffled thus in his hopes, and finding that his threats of publication wonld not intimidate the Duchess into compliance. Mr Foote had recourse to his levee of scribblers, for the pur?iose of furnishing newspaper defamation. The following letter was received only on Saturday afternoon, and in the 'St. James's Chronicle,' on Saturday evening, a mod scurrilous invective against her Grace of Kingston was dated from Mr Foote's Theatre in the HayMarket.”

“To Her Grace the DU CHESS of KINGSTON. "Madam, —A member of the Privy Council, and a friend of your Grace’s (he has begged me not to mention his name, but I suppose your Grace will easily guess who) has just left me' —he has, explained to me, what I did not conceive, that the publication of the BCenes in the Trip to Calais,’ at this juncture, with the dedication and pre- \ race, might be of infinite ill consequence to your affairs. "I really, Madam, wish you no ill, and should be sorry to do you an intherefore give up to that consideration what neither your Grace’s offers, nor the threats of your agents could obtain; the scenes shall not be published, nor shall anything appear at my theatre, or from me, that can hurt you, provided the attacks made on me in the newspapers do not make it necessary for me to act in defence of myself. "Your Grace will therefore see the ; necessity of giving proper directions. "I have the honour to be, Grace's most devoted servant, - "SAMUEL FOOTE. 2 Sunday. "Aptf: ,$> iSffivO & ■ ' f*To' Mr FOOTE, v •;*' £ "Sir —I was at dinner wheii I received your ill-judged letter. As there is little consideration required, I shall sacrifice ■ a moment to answer it*

“A member of your Privy Council can never hope to be of a lady’s cabinet. “I know too well what is due to nay own dignity to enter into a compromise with an extortionate assassin of private reputation. If I before abhorred you for your slander. I now despise you for your concessions: it is a proof of the illiberality of your satire, when you can publish it or suppress it as best suits the needy convenience of your purse. You first had the cowardly baseness to^. dra,w the sword, and if I sheath it until I make . you crouch like the subservient vassal as you are, then is there not spirit in an injured woman, nor meanness in a slanderous buffoon. “To a man my sex alone- would have screened mp from attack —but I am writing to the descendant of a MerryAndrew, and prostitute the term of manhood by applying it to Mr Foote. “Clothed in my innocence, as in a coat of mail, I am proof against an host of foes, and, conscious of never having, intentionally offended a single individual, I doubt not but. a brave and generous public will protect me from the malevolence/of a theatrical assassin. You shall have cause to remember, that though I would have given liberally for the relief of your necessities, I scorn to be bullied into a purchase of your silence. “There is something, however, j.n your pity at which my‘ nature revolts. To make me an offer of pity at once betrays your insolence and your vanity. I will keep the pity you send until the morning before you are turned off, when I will return it by a Cupid with a box of lip-salve, and a choir of choristers shall chaunt a stave to your requiem. “E. KINGSTON. “Kingston House. Sunday, 13th August.

“P.S.—You would have received this sooner, but the servant has been a long time writing it.”

It will be seen that the Duchess haul a pleasing gift of vituperation that proclaimed her very woman; but there is a curiously intimate ring in her tirade that remains unexplained. There was aI-3o this malicious footnote : _ “Mr Foote is descended in the female line from one Harnaas, a Merry-Andrew who exhibited at Totness, in Devonshire, and afterwards figured in the character of a Mountebank at Plymouth. This same Merry-Andrew's daughter married a justice Foote, of Truro, in Cornwall. There is a man now living, who has often been more delighted with the nimble feats of this Merry-Andrew, than with all the grimace of features it is in the power of our modern Aristophanes to assume.'-’

“To the DUCHESS of KINGSTON

“Madam, —Though I have neither time nor inclination to answer the illiberal attacks, of your agents, yet a public correspondence with your Grace is too great an honour for me to decline. I can't help thinking but it would have been prudent in your Grace to have answered my letter before dinner, or at least postponed it to the cool hour of morning you would then have found that I had voluntarily granted that request, which you have endeavoured, by so manj'different ways, to obtain. “Lord Mountstuart, ror whose amiable qualities I have- the highest respect, and whose name your agents first very unneceearily produced to the public, must recollect, when I had the honour to meet him at Kingston-house, by your Grace's appointment, that instead of begging relief from your charity, I rejected your splendid offers to suppress the 'Trip to Calais,' with tiie contempt they deserved. Indeed, madam, the humanity of my royal and benevolent master, and the public protection, have placed me much above the reach of your bounty.

"But_ why, madam, put on your coat of mail against me? I have no hostile intentions. Folly, not Vice, is the game I pursue. In those scenes which you so unaccountably apply to yourself, you must observe, that there is not the slightest hint at the little incidents of your life which have excited the curiosity of the Grand Inquest for the County of Middlesex. I am happy, madam, however, to hear that your robe of innocence is in such perfect repair; I was afraid it might have been a little the worse for the wearing: may it hold out to keep you warm the next winter! "The progenitors your Grace has done me the honour to give me are, I presume, merely metaphorical persons, and to be considered as the authors of my muse, and not of my manhood: a MerryAmdrew and a prostitute are no bad poetical parents, especially for a writer of plays: the first to give the humour and mirth, the last to furnish the graces and powers of attraction. Prostitutes and players too must live by pleasing the public not but your Grace may have heard of ladies who, by private practices, have accumulated amazing great fortunes. If you mean that I really owe my birth to that pleasant connexion, your Grace is grossly deceived. My father was, in truth, a very useful magistrate and respectable county gentleman, as the whole county of Cornwall will tell you. My mother, the daughter of Sir Eldward Goodere, Bait;., who represented the county of Hereford; her fortune was large, and her morals irreproachable, till your -Grace condescended to stain them; she was upwards of fourscore years old when she died, and, what will surprise your Grace, was never married but once in her life. I am obliged to your Grace for your intended present on the day, as you politely express it, when I am to be turned off. —But where will your Grace get the Cupid to bring me the Up-salve ?—That family, I am afraid, has, long .quitted your service. "Pray, naadiam, is not J n the name of yoUr female confidential secretary? and is not she generally clothed in, black petticoats made out of your, weeds? " *®o dhburnedthe dame of Ephesus her love/ "I fancy your Grace took the hint wfien you last resided at Borne; you

heard there, I suppose, of a certain Joan, who was once elected a pope, and in humble imitation have converted a pious parson into a chambermaid.. The scheme is new in this country, and has doubtless its particular pleasures. That you may never want the 'Benefit of the Clergy,' in every emergence, is the sincere wish of your Grace's most devoted and obliged humble servant, ' “’SAMUEL FOOTE.” The Duchess’s secretary here referred to was the Rev. William Jackson, an Irish clergyman who later committed suicide during the course of his trial on a charge of carrying on a treasonable correspondence with persons in France. The Duchess and Foote carried on their squabble for some time longer; but no further correspondence was published. accusation of attempted blackmail on I oote's part was persisted in, and even supported by the affidavit of the Duchess's chaplain, but never proved. The comedy, with its title changed to “The Capuchin,” was produced ait Foote's theatre on August 19th, 1776. It was a success. Foote spoke a prologue written by George Colman, and commencing: “Critics whene'er I write, in every scene Discover meanings that I never mean; Whatever character 1 bring to view, I am the father of the child, 'tis true, But every babe his cfastening owes to you.” —Frank Morton.